His father had been kind, happy to bring Dell into the family. The first few weeks soothed his boyhood mind and made him imagine many years of such contentment. Then his father took ship on a trading mission, hitting the rough seas around the point of Cana in the middle of a storm. He never returned and Dell went from newfound son, to unwelcome houseguest, to stable boy in a matter of a month.

He rolled over on the small cot in Mari and Corban’s shop. They’d left it closed for a few days while he was there. It couldn’t be said that the son of the great Lady Tenyson was frequenting a healer’s shop on the eastern side of the city.  If any even knew he belonged to the Tenyson household. His parentage was a well-kept secret in Madra with his family not claiming any connection other than that of master and servant.

The Tenyson’s were the current peak of the spiral. Each merchant family in Madra had a rank. Wealth and success affected rank as well as the king’s favor and one’s position on the council. Dell’s father had worked tirelessly to get the family where it was and Dell’s step-mother kept them there through nefarious means.

The hierarchy in Madran society was a spiral with each family one step below the prior one. The rise was a struggle, and the fall was great.

The door opened and Mari appeared. She smiled kindly. She’d taken a liking to the man in constant need of Corban’s healing.

“How are you feeling, dear?” she asked.

He struggled to sit up, his muscles aching. It was the first time he’d been truly awake since the fight. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ale, would you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Afraid not. Is that what got you into this predicament?”

“No.”

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. He didn’t blame her. He was lying after all.

“I’ve known you since you first arrived in the city.” She crossed her arms. “You can’t lie to me.”

She was right. He’d found comfort in sneaking away to Mari’s shop since he was a broken child in need of a friend. He rubbed his hands together, his leather boxing straps still sticky with blood. Not taking his eyes from her, he unwound the leather and released a sigh as cool air touched his bruised knuckles.

“I work hard, Mari.” He tried to infuse more age than he had into his voice. “Yesterday morning, I was sent to help unload a shipment at the docks.”

She nodded for him to go on.

“I went for a midday bite at the Cooked Goose and who happens by?”